WINCEST FINISH THE FIC CONTEST
by Crimson1
Summary: One more entry! Last we left Sam and Dean, Dean had just saved Sam from being pulled into a meatgrinder while also single-handedly beheading a harpy. After crumbling to the ground together, Sam began to trail kisses along Dean's neck, and then...
1. The Dream

FINISH THE FIC CONTEST!

I know you're all wondering why this isn't a new chapter of "Incubus" but I just couldn't help myself. The other night, unable to sleep with my husband gone, I had a supremely hot and unexpected wincest dream. I know. Me, who hates wincest generally. But who am I kidding, it has a certain appeal even I can't resist on occasion. So therefore, I decided to write it up as a fic. The problem was that I woke up right when it was getting good! I figured I'd just keep writing beyond the point I woke up but no matter what I do I just can't seem to come up with something satisfying. So instead I've decided to make a contest! Finish the fic! Let me know in review what you think of this and whether or not you'll send me an entry continuing where the fic ends. You can send them to me when they're done through my email, visible on my profile page. I'll give you...a week to complete them. They can be as short or as long as you like. It can end hot and steamy, or completely non-wincest if you manage it. Anything is acceptable. Please help finish this awesome dream for me. ;-)

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The Dream

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If ever Dean had doubted his mantra of 'monsters he gets; people are crazy', his and Sam's current hunt would have quickly set him straight again. Monsters and serial killers were not supposed to mix. That's why there were hunters for one and Feds for the other. But apparently, Ernie Kittleson, douchebag extraordinaire, hadn't gotten that memo when he decided to summon an actual real as life harpy to do his bidding.

Those things were considered 'that which snatches' for a reason, it seemed, as Ernie had used the harpy to help him snatch up kids—freakin' kids—that he abducted, did things to Dean didn't even want to think about, and then killed, usually leaving a few parts leftover for the harpy to chow down on.

That just wasn't okay.

It was also not okay that instead of the hot chick with wings and bird claws Dean was anticipating, the real thing was not like the myths. Okay, so according to Sam it was exactly like the myths for a harpy to have a head like Medusa, beady eyes, and tusks of all things, the whole sexy version having come later when harpies were romanticized, but god damn. Dean really should have learned his lessen from "Fantasia" that droopy-ass tits flapping in your face was never a good thing.

Dean had already taken care of Ernie, no regret in him at all for killing a human either considering what a poor excuse for one the guy had been, but not before the bastard had snatched up Sam first. Ernie had chained Sam—Dean's frickin' baby brother—up to a pulley system rigged to crank Sam face-first into what looked like a slaughter house meat grinder. Why random warehouses and factories always had shit like that as part of the décor, Dean would never understand.

So Ernie was out of commission, but Sammy was up a level about ready to be done in damsel-in-distress on the train tracks style, and even though Dean could frickin' see Sam above him since the floor was metal grating, he still had to deal with the god damn harpy.

Which was ugly.

Really fucking ugly.

And damn it all to Hell those claws stung when they tore into his shoulder.

"Dean!"

"I'm working on it!" Dean called as he dodged yet another swipe of those claws.

"Work faster!"

Yeah, coz this was so frickin' easy, Dean thought with clenched teeth. He was just thankful he had left his leather in the Impala because if this bitch had sliced through his father's jacket, it would have really pissed Dean off.

Of course his bleeding shoulder had him pretty well pissed anyway, and god damn it, why wouldn't this thing die.

"You have to cut its head off!" Sam was yelling.

Dean knew that already, thank you very much, Mr. I-Went-To-College-So-I'm-Obviously-So-Much-Smarter-Than-You. Dean's problem was that he didn't have anything to cut the harpy's head off with. A gunshot wouldn't do it, and his knife had been knocked away to some unknown corner of the building about twenty minutes ago.

Ducking to avoid a slash from the harpy's taloned feet this time, Dean rolled to the nearest table covered in what were probably Ernie's torture tools. Unfortunately, Dean immediately regretted that roll as the movement tore open the wound in his shoulder about two more inches, and damn that was gonna need stitches.

Jumping back to his feet, Dean focused on the tools in front of him. There were a few knives but nothing big enough for the job. He needed something with leverage, with distance so the bitch wouldn't slash his arm off while he swung.

Then he spotted the pickaxe.

A deafening screech sounded near Dean's ear. He instinctively ducked, which was a good thing, considering if he hadn't, he would have been the one missing a head.

"Dean!"

Dean didn't want to look up and see how close Sam's face was to the grinder. If he could just kill the damn harpy, he could mess up the pulley system from down here and save Sam without even having to go upstairs.

Rolling again to avoid the harpy's attack, his shoulder tore just a little more but he managed to slip under the table and pop back up on the other side. He snatched up the pickaxe.

"Come here, Ugly," Dean sneered at the harpy, "Time for you to meet my little friend." And then Dean thought, really, why did he have to use that particular way of putting it, since it sent his mind straight to the gutter, and with this thing looking skeevy three ways this side of Sunday, that was not a pleasant thought. "Gross."

"Dean!" Sam's voice sounded muffled now. Not a good sign.

The harpy flapped closer to Dean, swiping with her feet several times while Dean swerved to avoid them. Finally, the bitch came at him with her front claws, and with one good swing, Dean lopped her head clean off her ugly-ass shoulders. "Fuck," he gasped, grimacing at the extra pain swinging anything caused his shoulder, "I think you just redefined fugly there, sweetheart." He panted as he stared down at the now twitching headless body of the beast.

"Dean!"

Shit.

Sam was right above Dean but the start of the pulley system was across the room. Dean had to hurry. He hefted up the pickaxe, walking determinedly over to the wrapped up chains of the crank pulling Sam into the grinder upstairs. Dean hissed as he pressed his free hand to his bloodied and torn up shoulder. He didn't have time to worry about that now. As soon as he was at those chains, he gripped the base of the pickaxe and swung.

CHINK.

The chains shifted but didn't bust. Dean swung again.

"Hurry!"

CHINK.

One more for the win, Dean thought, even though his shoulder was throbbing. He swung the pickaxe as hard as he could.

"Dean!"

CLANG.

The chains snapped and immediately began to unravel along the pulley, fast enough that Dean stepped back, afraid the ends would whip up and strike him. Up on the other level, Dean heard Sam pulling on the chains as he was fed the slack, finally able to unwrap himself and get free. Dean smiled weakly to himself as he slumped against the nearest…whatever. Damn he was tired.

"Dean!" Sam called again, racing across the upper level to the stairs, yelling for Dean with concern now instead of urgency, "Dean! Holy shit, are you okay?!"

Sure, Dean thought, still half grinning, now the princess was worried. "M'fine…Sammy," Dean slumped a little further against what now looked a little like a control panel and…huh. If Dean didn't have such a stigma against big red doomsday buttons, he might have thought to press that instead of using the pickaxe.

"Fine?" Sam scoffed as he rushed down the steps over to Dean, kind of smiling deliriously like he couldn't believe either of them was actually alive, "Your shoulder's half ripped off, but Heaven forbid Dean Winchester be anything but fine." Still grinning madly, Sam tackled Dean with a clumsy hug, careful to hook Dean under the arms instead of up around his injured shoulder.

Dean 'ouffed' and cringed a little anyway since the great force of his oversized baby brother was pressing his hip into the corner of the control panel. "Jesus, Sammy…gimme a break here," he pat Sam's back awkwardly as the larger hunter squeezed him too tightly, "It's not like it was all that…well, okay, so it was a little…touch and go for a second maybe, but…I'm fine. Honest. Lay off with the…PDA…already." Dean huffed, trying to catch his breath. He was really fucking tired.

"You have strips of blue T-shirt dug down two inches into your shoulder," Sam was still laughing as he said that because that wasn't even close to being the worst injury Dean had ever had. Besides, with the right stitch job, Dean would be fine, sure enough. "God, Dean, you took down a harpy!" Sam exclaimed, "A fucking harpy right out of Homer! I was so ready to be ground beef up there," he chuckled.

That finally had Dean laughing too, though a little dizzily. He was still seeping blood, after all. "Yeah, well, ya know…all in a day's work, right?" He pat Sam's back again, trying to indicate that now would be a good time to stop squeezing the life out of him, but Sam didn't seem to get it. He just sort of pulled back a little, still clinging. Dean understood that, of course, he understood why Sam was reluctant to let go. They had lost each other so many times for various reasons that when it came down to it neither of them would be able to survive it if they lost the other again.

"We should get out of here," Sam said, and Dean was so ready to second that, only he also sort of didn't think he could move.

"Just...wanna rest a sec," he more or less gasped, clutching Sam's arms when he realized he was about two seconds from crumbling. And then he was crumbling, just falling straight down like his knees had given out, which they probably had, because after all, his arm was half torn off, like Sam had said, and he was really fucking tired.

Clutching Sam as he was, and with Sam still hanging onto him, Dean going suddenly limp was more than enough to bring Sam down too. Dean slumped back away from the control panel, the weight of Sam pulling the 6'4" behemoth right down on top of Dean when they hit the ground. Pain ricocheted all throughout Dean's shoulder from the impact but he couldn't seem to care right now.

Even though Sam hurriedly mumbled out apologies—like the fall had been his fault—and asked if Dean was okay, he was still obviously giddy, his voice half laughing with every word he spoke. Dean wondered if there was something in the air, maybe a little fallout from harpy blood or something, making them both crack, but the truth was it had just been one too many close calls. For both of them.

Dean was laughing right along with Sam despite the pain of his injury. It felt nice just lying there, all that weight of Sam's draped over Dean like some great blanket, and not too much weight because Sam was at least holding himself up enough not to crush Dean with his 200 plus pounds of muscle. If he hadn't been so tired he might have thought it was a little weird the way Sam settled in instead of rolling away, his face buried in Dean's neck like when they were real little and Sammy would fall asleep on Dean watching some stupid movie.

About the time Dean thought better of the situation and was going to tell Jumbo to get the fuck off already, Sam finally moved. But it was only a little, a slight shift like he had meant to get up but changed his mind. His face remained down by Dean's neck, his lips pretty much on the skin anyway, so Dean almost didn't notice when Sam first pressed them a little more firmly.

A shudder ran through Dean's body, surprising him at the feel of the light, tingly sensation caused by Sam's lips pressing just a little harder to his sweat-dampened skin. Dean's brain caught up pretty quickly after that.

"Sammy…?" Dean couldn't really speak what with Sam being all over him and all, Dean himself being not so lucid anyway, and oh yeah, seeing as how he was still bleeding out of his fucking torn up shoulder.

Sam didn't reply though, just breathed a little more deeply, breathed hot against the skin all down Dean's neck, and pressed his lips to Dean again.

Like before, Dean shuddered, feeling those tingles go straight to his groin, and that was weird, not to mention a whole lot of wrong, but all he could do was give another hushed, "Sammy…"

Sam breathed deep and hot almost like a hush, like he was trying to quiet Dean as he moved slowly along the tender skin beneath Dean's chin, planting little…kisses. Fuck, they weren't just presses of lips, harmless and accidental, they were god damn kisses, and that was about five thousand miles away from being okay.

But Dean didn't move, didn't try to push Sam away, didn't even protest really. His eyes were open but the ceiling above was a blur, Sam still comfortably heavy atop him as he continued to graze Dean's skin with 'testing the waters', tingly kisses all along his neck. Dean shuddered with every one, breathing out, "Sammy," several more times, each successive exhale more like a gasp than an actual word.

"Dean…"

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tbc...BY YOU!

A/N: Imagine having to end it there when you're right IN IT. Yeah, it sucked. Stupid Minnesota cold waking me up! Anyway, please help me finish this fic and I'll post the winner as a second chapter. Winner can also request anything they want of me. Keep in mind I'm married though. ;-)

Crimson


	2. The Ending

And the winner is: Ally Plz! Her entry is below and she can now request anything she likes from me, but if you think this was an easy decision, HELL NO! I had so many great entries, and a few that didn't get done in time. Anyway, the other entries can be found in the following chapters with my comments. I love you all, and you're all so darn talented, but I went with Ally's because I felt it captured the boys the most as they truly are, and the direction she took was the most unique. Thanks everyone who read and especially to those who entered!

Beta-ed just a tad by me. Please comment for Ally!

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The Ending

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Then, as if he had just woken up from a bad dream, Sam hastily picked himself off his elder brother's body, right palm covering his mouth. His panicked eyes met with Dean's unfocused glazed ones as his mind fumbled for an excuse. He came up with none.

Feeling confused, Dean blinked and shook his head slightly, ridding some of the blur from his eyes. "Whadid cha stop?" he slurred out. His brain function was clearly not mingling well with blood loss. Dean sat up slowly with fatigue and was suddenly attacked by vertigo. Dark spots covered his line of sight and he tilted dangerously to the side, threatening to crush his wounded shoulder.

The floor shouldn't be forty-five degrees like that, Dean decided.

Sam was suddenly kneeling next to him muttering curses and reprimanding himself for not helping his brother earlier. His arm wrapped around his brother's back with the other carefully cradling his injured shoulder, trying to hold him upright.

"Jesus Dean, you really need those stitches," Sam said, stating the obvious and feeling panicky as he examined Dean's bleeding shoulder, peeling off the tattered remains of the sleeve from the wound, but left the strips stuck inside it for he had no proper equipment. The gashes from the harpy's claws were long and wide and deeper than he had thought, almost reaching his brother's elbow. The bleeding didn't stem even a bit and the blood pooling on the floor was bordering on unhealthy.

'If this goes on,' Sam frowned 'Dean will pass out from blood loss.' Passing out was the last and worst thing Sam wanted Dean to do right now.

With little choice, Sam stripped out of his own shirt, deciding there and then that even if it was his favorite shirt (so far) and that he had just bought it a few weeks before, it far from being as important as his brother staying alive. He positioned himself until Dean was sitting in between his legs and laying his back on Sam's raised knee. Tearing his shirt apart into wide strips, Sam hastily wrapped them around the gashes, all the while wincing and mumbling apologies when he applied too much pressure for Dean to handle as he let out some pained groans and curses.

"I hate you God for creating pain," remarked Dean suddenly with his teeth gritted.

It caught Sam unaware and despite the situation, he chuckled. "You'd rather feel pleasure and turn into a masochist then?"

"Hell yeah! At least it'd – ah Christ! Not so tight!—it'd feel like sex," said Dean, moving his uninjured arm around in a gesture as Sam finished tying up the last of the strips of his shirt. "And dying peacefully wouldn't take any fucking effort," he continued, amused eyes looking at Sam.

All humor was successfully sucked out of the atmosphere with that remark. Sam frowned and tightened his hold on Dean. "Seriously Dean, say something about being dead when you're not actually going to die if I don't get you some help soon, will you?" muttered Sam while gazing into his brother's eyes.

Blurry vision or not, Dean would be fucking blind if he didn't see the Sammy version puppy dog eyes staring into his with such a small distance between them. And pardon the English slang, but those bloody eyes could kill.

"Whatever you say, Sammy."

Shit.

It should be very, very wrong for those words to be arousing in this situation, Sam discovered. Why he thought it was arousing in the first place, he didn't know.

He went still for a few seconds. Then as if he finally remembered his mission to nurse Dean back to satisfactory (as they could never actually grow healthy before the next hunt), with his voice appallingly husky he asked, "Dean, can you stand?" giving a cough or two to hide his tone.

Either Dean didn't acknowledge the huskiness, or he was just too tired to notice because he slurred, "The day I turn into your fucking damsel in distress is the day the apocalypse comes." Dean still had his snarky side despite the blood loss, it seemed. "Of course I can. Not a sissy like you," he said elbowing Sam on his stomach slightly while trying to stand on his own.

Sam ouffed.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Humor was restored, but as glad as he could be that Dean was still acting like himself, Sam still couldn't let him go as he helped his reluctant brother until Dean was finally standing, albeit swaying slightly like a drunk.

"Lemmie go, Sammy. I can walk on my own."

"It's Sam, and I don't think you can," Sam said with worry, "You can barely stand on your own, Dean!"

Dean growled something about not being weak and pushed Sam away with less strength than he intended. Damn it, he did feel weak. He started to walk towards what he thought might be the way out of the stupid warehouse and immediately buckled after the third tiny step.

"Dean!" Sam caught him before he hit the ground. "What did I tell you?" he said with the 'I-told-you-so' tone in his voice.

"Shut up, sasquatch," sulked Dean before he yelped when Sam huddled him into his arm to carry him—bridal style. Sam took a minute to get used to Dean's weight in his arms and walked almost the opposite of where Dean had been heading seconds before. Dean grumbled out curses and glared like a prissy cat.

Sam shook his head with exasperation. "Of all the days and times to be stubborn Dean, why must it be this day now?"

Dean just remained quietly grumbling and sulking in Sam's arms. 'Kid's getting strong', he thought proudly. His eyes were getting more and more unfocused and he felt so very tired. He laid his head on his brother's chest, unaware of what he was doing to his younger brother.

"If you ever tell anyone I had to be a friggin blushing bride, I'mma kick your ass and throw you into a cage full of hungry wolves," mumbled Dean, his voice muffled over Sam's collarbone.

Warm air puffed over Sam's sweaty skin eliciting shivers as he struggled to hold Dean in place while walking them back to the Impala. The pair of jeans he was wearing was starting to feel slightly tighter and Sam cursed his nether region for being traitorous.

'Younger brothers don't feel attracted or get aroused by their older brothers,' he said internally, 'Especially if the older brother's a stubborn jerk'

He arrived at the passenger door of the Impala and opened his mouth to ask Dean for the keys but nothing came out when he noticed Dean was seriously in the verge of passing out.

Shit!

"Damn! No passing out on me, Dean!" Sam shook Dean and tried to stop him from losing consciousness. 'Ok, keys. Need keys.' His hand groped and reached for Dean's keys in his back pocket with difficulty.

Apparently, a hand grabbing his ass shook Dean up more effectively than jostling ever could, something Sam discovered when he was elbowed beneath his rib cage. Dean weakly glared at him and Sam quickly pulled out the keys as explanation, struggling to bend and unlock the door.

He helped Dean back onto his feet and almost had to push his brother's head down to avoid him hitting the door frame when he ducked into the car. Sam noticed that blood was starting to seep out of his makeshift bandages. Dean noticed it too and said, "Hurry up, Sammy. You don't want me to die, make an effort saving me then."

And in no time, the black 1967 Chevy Impala took off. Dean shook his head slightly, trying to not fall asleep as he slumped towards the driver's seat side. He almost nodded off anyway, was sure that he had until he felt a slight pressure and something soft on his lips. He frowned and the feeling was gone. When he opened his eyes again, he thought he saw Sam blushing and blinked.

Did Sam just…?

Huh.

Dean slumped back into his own seat. He opened his mouth to say something, but tactfully decided against it and slowly turned on the radio. Sam changed the frequency with a soft 'driver picks the music' to something more upbeat. Dean was too tired to argue and stared outside the window thinking. His thoughts kept him awake long enough until he noticed that they had arrived at Bobby's junkyard.

Sam wordlessly got out of the car and helped Dean out as well.

He slung his brother's uninjured arm over his shoulder and almost dropped him when he heard his brother rasp to him, "Next time you decide to molest me, do it when I'm fully coherent. I swear I won't bite," and promptly passed out.

Sam gaped and stared at his unconscious brother until Bobby yelled at them to come inside the house.

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Ally's original A/N to me: Wow, it took me like 3 1/2 pages to tell something that is like… 30 minutes time limit from start to finish (at least in my mind). I truly suck at preserving atmosphere and the ending is just bad. Sorry for that, Crim. *crai*

Sam said a lot of 'Dean' in my part… Methinks it's because I keep remembering the SPN Jensen interview with Jensen said that Sam said 'Dean' a lot and stuff. I can't put Dean doing a model look anywhere… but heh, it's the imagination that counts amirite?

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Thanks again!

Crim


	3. Saving Faith's

If we're talking hot and steamy and one of my new favorite writers for her amazing style and flow, you cannot go wrong with Saving Faith from Livejournal, currently preparing the 4th arc to her Wing verse about Dean and Castiel. What I liked most about this entry was that she stuck directly to Sam's POV the way I had stuck to Dean's in the first part for a really nice contrast. And of course the amazing hotness followed by some classic sillyness that is just SO the boys. It was difficult not to choose this one, but I went with not-hot instead of hot. Rarely happens, folks, so you know it was a hard decision. Thanks, my dear!

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Saving Faith's

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Sam's pretty sure he's lost his mind. Somewhere between psycho Ernie and the meat grinder of doom and the harpy trying to carve his brother up like a Thanksgiving turkey Sam just plum lost his freaking mind. That's the only way he's got of explaining this, what he's doing, why he's doing it, how he's feeling about it, because he's just not there right now. The lights are on but nobody's home because he really, seriously, honestly should not be liking this as much as he is.

The way his body feels plastered across Dean's like cheap, ugly wallpaper. Hot weight pressing down on hard muscles, blood soaking through Sam's jacket from where it's still spilling out of his brother, sticky and warm.

Or the way his lips tingle as they press into Dean's neck, sweat salty in his mouth, tongue buzzing like he's licking a battery, waiting for his brother to freak out on him, knee him in the groin and toss him off only praying that he won't.

Or the way his pants keep getting tighter every time Dean says his name, breathless, hushed, whispered into the top of Sam's head, soft breeze running through his hair as he moves along his brother like he's the roadmap to his freaking existence right now.

Yep, Sam's out of his mind here. Straightjacket, padded-cell, shock therapy, dad-would-so-kick-my-ass-for-this cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs _insane_ and the strangest part of it all is that he _doesn't even care._

Maybe it's hell. Sam remembering very clearly what it was like the last time Dean died, Dean was dead, gone, stolen from him leaving little Sammy alone and miserable and angry. Never being able to forget what that felt like and so every time he sees blood on his brother's skin his heart trip-hammers in his chest like a drummer with a terrible sense of rhythm.

Or maybe it's jealousy. Sam not having been the one to save Dean from the aforementioned hell, took an angel with blue eyes and shy smiles to do that and Dean had saved him so many times in his life that all he'd ever wanted was once, just _once_, to be able to do that. Return the favor.

Though, if Sam is really being honest with himself – which, considering the fact that he's slowly working his way towards ramming his tongue down his brother's throat, honesty isn't exactly a problem right about now – it's always been like this. Something always there between them, just under the surface, slow boil during the years of growing up practically on top of each other anyway. It just took a harpy and a crazy dude with a name built for trucker hats and gigantic sideburns to draw it out.

The proverbial freaking straw and all that.

He's still kissing Dean, though. Nipping kisses on his neck, in the shallow dip at the bottom of his throat, along his collarbone, sucking lightly at the pulse point until Dean is squirming beneath him. Sam already half hard and Dean well on his way, doped up on his own adrenaline and pain from the shoulder that's still bleeding, the one that Sam really should take care of, only he'd much rather, you know, _take care _of other stuff right about now.

He's going to do it. Jackhammer beating in his chest and _he's going to freaking do it_. Licking along the line of Dean's jaw, soft suck on his cheek before he twists his head just so and slips his tongue between his brother's lips. Dean kind of resisting at first, mouth open but tongue stationary, only after about fifteen seconds of Sam probing around in there a hand comes up behind his head, fingers at the end of Dean's good arm now locking in Sam's hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss and this is it.

This. Is. It.

No turning back now and, again, Sam _doesn't freaking care._

One hand massaging Dean's earlobe, something Sam used to do absently when Dean would let him sleep with him sometimes, bad dreams and needing his brother's touch. One hand doing that and the other moving downwards, tracing shivering trails across Dean's body, fabric soft and damp before he reaches Dean's waistband, fingers twisting roughly, _longingly_ over denim and cotton beneath as his brother bucks up into him.

"Sammy," Dean bites out, ripping his mouth away from Sam's, and he doesn't think he's ever heard him sound that needy in his entire life.

And Sam is also pretty sure that he's never been this turned on in his entire life either.

And he might be tempted to think up a good reason or two about why those two things are so intertwined only… you guessed it… he really, seriously _doesn't care_ right now.

"Dean… let me…" Sam moans out, his voice needy itself, begging Dean to let him do this even though Dean hadn't really done anything to make him stop. Hadn't asked. Hadn't resisted. Had just said Sam's name like it was the only name in existence and Dean's eyes are open at that. Staring deep into Sam's, fear and lust written in the soft gold flecks mixed in with the green – _so much green_ – as he nods lightly, soft lift and drop of chin beneath Sam's lips.

That's all the invitation Sam needs, his hand slipping into Dean's pants, wrapping hot and sweaty around hard flesh as Dean keens beneath him, eyes slipping shut, breath hissing between clenched teeth as Sam strokes him. Slow and hard, dragging his fingers over the vein, twisting over the head, smearing the precome all along him, making him moan.

Making his _brother moan._

And _God_, if that just isn't the hottest thing he's ever heard he doesn't know what is.

He keeps his hand moving, though. Even though the angle is bad and Dean's pants keep getting in the way Sam won't stop. _Can't_ stop. Can only keep pulling, tugging, _dragging_ along his brother's dick like it's life, somehow, the movement.

Sam's never touched a guy like this, though. A guy other than himself, at least. But he's apparently pretty damn good at it because it doesn't take long for Dean to start making these low, throaty panting noises that just send Sam careening right off the rails. Cock aching where it's trapped in his jeans as he rubs it along Dean's thigh, not nearly enough pressure _anywhere_ and needs…

… damnit does Sam _need_.

So he stops what he's doing, Dean sucking in his disapproval sharply like someone just turned off his morphine drip, his eyes snapping wide so needy again… _dear God in heaven_ _**so needy**_. And Sam shushes him, soft _hush_ whispered into his mouth, tongues tangling wildly, passionately, as he yanks his own pants roughly down his thighs before hefting Dean out of his, soft grunt vibrating along Sam's tongue as he lands on his busted up shoulder harder than Sam wanted him to.

"Sorry," Sam hisses, tearing away from Dean's lips again and he laughs at that, Dean does. Mumbling _s'okay_ into the air between them as Sam _looks_. Eyes drifting down to their crotches, bare and shadowed in the dark here, pulsing and throbbing and wet and so close to each other's…

… so freaking _close _that Sam feels something tug loose inside his stomach at that alone. At the sight of their hard, full cocks straining to touch.

He's not going to last long. Coming apart at the seams and no way in hell is he going to last long like this so he reaches down with one trembling hand to align them, feeling his skin tingle as his palm stretches to wrap around both of them at once, _together_, before he thrusts. Hips pounding down into Dean, flesh on hard flesh, slick and sticky and warm. So… freaking… _warm_… that Sam's pretty sure he's never known what it means to be alive until this very second.

"God, Dean, so… so _hot_," he huffs out, his eyes still riveted by the way their dicks are rubbing together, electricity in his veins, blood pounding as mercilessly in his ears as his hips are pounding into Dean's and his fingers are on his face at that. At his words. Dean's fingers trailing shakily along Sam's chin, tilting his head up, eye to eye, so close that he can taste his breath. Can smell the honey lingering somewhere just beneath his brother's skin.

"Sammy," Dean says like he wants to make a point here. Wants to tell him something. Something _important_. But all he manages to say is Sam's name again, _Sammy_, the one that only Dean gets to use.

_Only Dean_.

His voice lost like a dying wind, his head slamming back into the ground beneath them, the only thing holding them together right now as Dean's cock twitches hard against Sam's, warm heat spreading between them like fire.

So much of their lives defined by _fire_.

Dean coming with Sam's name blistering his lips and that is all it takes. All it takes to push Sam right over the same damn edge, his own come mixing with Dean's as they ride each other through this, hands clutching bloody clothes and hot bodies, holding onto each other because that's all they have.

All they've _ever had_.

All they'll _ever need_.

Holding on so tight like they think they'll just fly apart into a million pieces if they don't as they both settle into each other. Soft, rhythmless drags while their lungs figure out how to suck in air again.

"Fuck," Dean whispers once it's all finished, Sam's body still draped across his, heavier now, somehow. Heavier and _lighter_. And Sam can't help but agree with him.

Can't help but agree with _fuck_.

His tongue painting lazy designs on Dean's neck again, ending where this all started, as his brother begins to laugh. Deep, belly laughs that vibrate up into Sam's body, making his cock twitch like it wants this.

Wants to _do this_, all over again.

Forever, maybe even.

And Sam thinks he could probably get used to that pretty damn easily.

"What's so funny?" he says, though. The words rough in his dry throat, saying them to keep himself from saying the millions of other, more dangerous ones lingering just beyond his lips.

_I can't lose you again._

_I've wanted you from the moment I learned what the word means._

_I love you._

_God, Dean, do I __**love you**__._

Words that don't need to be spoken now, he figures, what with everything that just happened. Only Dean is laughing still and Sam is really, truly curious as to why.

"A fucking harpy right out of Homer?" he asks, Sam lifting his head momentarily to look into Dean's eyes, gold flecks dancing now with the smile that's teasing its way across his brother's lips.

"God, you really are a massive dork."

And Sam laughs at that too, joining in the fun. Because he's right, Dean is. Sam is a dork. A huge, book-loving, brother-screwing _dork_.

But he doesn't think he needs to add that he's _Dean's dork_ because, honestly, he's pretty sure that point has already been made.

-----

*fans self*

Crim


	4. Dianna Wickham's

Oh, and Dianna, my dear, how I adore your writing and how well you capture these boys. You made this even harder. I wanted to choose this entry so much because of the balance so wonderfully done between hot and Sam still freaking a little over Dean being injured, but again, I ended up choosing the one that valiantly kept the boys' pants on. Not to say I was looking for their pants to stay on, because who wants that, right? ;-) But still, it was hard not to choose this one as the grinding was awesome, and what followed, and I loved the sweetness at the end that seemed just the type of avoiding that Dean would do, saying, 'let's do that again some time, soon, and lot during vacation' without having to say it directly. Wonderful, wonderful.

Also slightly beta-ed per your request, Dianna.

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Dianna Wickham's

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"Dean… Please, I…"

Sam trailed off, but the unspoken words were there hovering between them.

_I could have lost you… I need to… feel you, touch you, taste you… need to know that we are alive… _

Dean instinctively knew those were the words on Sam's mind, because they were on his.

There was a dream-like quality to Sam's lips as they continued to ghost down Dean's neck, nuzzling the tender flesh where neck met shoulder. Dean let out a soft sigh, a sign that he wasn't going to fight Sam. Not when he was so tired from fighting with himself…not to mention the harpy.

Sam brought a hand between them to tentatively rest on Dean's thigh, still gently nuzzling the skin at Dean's neck. Dean tensed for a moment before relaxing under the touch. He trusted Sam with more than his life.

The hand on his thigh started rubbing in soothing circles, grazing gently against his increasingly aching arousal. It was so fucked up that his brother was making him hard, but not surprising since they were already fucked up on so many levels.

Sam leaned up to look Dean in the eye, hazel staring down into green, and then the softly caressing hand moved a fraction of an inch to its left.

Dean groaned, throwing his head back with the pleasure of Sam's hand touching him through his jeans. Sam eyes were intense with need and heat as he slowly lowered his face closer to Dean's, their lips touching softly for the first time.

Sam's breath intermingled with Dean's as they gently explored the feel and taste of each other, their surroundings, the whole rest of the world just falling away. Sam nibbled and coaxed Dean's mouth open before moving his tongue inside to playfully tangle with Dean's. This new depth coaxed out a sound from the back of Dean's throat resembling a needy mewl which he would later deny.

Dean pushed up into Sam to get closer to him, sucking gently on the tongue in his mouth, imitating darker desires he had on his mind no doubt caused by the teasing hand on his groin. Sam made some delicious sounds of his own as he too pressed his body closer to Dean, pressing his own hard arousal into Dean's thigh.

Dean couldn't get enough of the taste of Sam's lips, the feel of how soft and hot he was—a nice contrast to the harsh desperate rubbing of Sam's hand on Dean's crotch. Finally, Dean couldn't take it any longer and threw back his head with a harsh gasp for air as he thrust up hard to meet the pressure and heat of Sam's hand.

Sam moved once more to Dean's neck and started biting, leaving small claiming bruises up his neck; meanwhile shifting his hips so that they hovered directly over Dean's as he proceeded to grind down.

"Nnngh!"

Dean bit at his lip at the pleasurable feelings edged with pain. He helplessly thrust up against Sam, both of them rubbing against each other through the rough cloth of their jeans. Sam's movements were frantic in his desire for release as he pushed down and forward into Dean.

"Sam!" Dean gasped.

Sam's face was contorted with his own need riding him, his muscles straining and hot with pleasure. Dean let out a loud moan at a particularly sharp bite from Sam along his neck, hard enough to draw blood. The sound traveled through Sam making him tremble on the edge of orgasm.

"Dean… please!" Sam managed to gasp out, sweat trickling down his face, his damp shirt molded to his chest.

"Going to cum, Sammy? _Do_ it. Know you want to…wanna feel you…"

Sam gritted his teeth as he thrust down harder and faster against Dean, almost…

It was Dean's turn now as he leaned up and clamped his teeth onto the sensitive skin of Sam's neck, repaying the favor.

That did it.

Sam groaned as his orgasm crashed through him. He pumped his hips, riding out the heady feeling as his jeans grew damp and clung to him. He slumped down onto Dean as waves of exhaustion and satisfaction swept through him.

Dean grunted, "Bitch… would you mind getting off, you're not exactly as light as a feather."

Sam chuckled, moving quickly to the side. His happy expression melted into concern then as he noticed the pool of blood Dean was lying in. "Oh my god, Dean, why didn't you say something sooner? We need to treat your shoulder, you're loosing a lot of blood!"

Dean leered, his face a little pale. "We were kinda busy before, didn't want to interrupt…'sides, it can wait, I still have blood where it matters." Dean gestured to his prominent arousal still trapped in his jeans.

Sam laughed helplessly. Dean must not be too hurt if he can still think with his dick first. "Then let me take care of _that_ and then I'll take care of you…" Sam smiled.

Dean rolled his hips urgently, still riding the adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Sounds good Sammy."

Sam leaned down to claim Dean's lips in an intense kiss as he undid Dean's jeans. Dean helped Sam peel the damp and blood-spotted denim down his hips before jerking shamelessly into Sam's touch.

Sam looked down as the sight his brother made. Dean looked like a fallen warrior; his hard body panting and stained with sweat, dirt, and blood. Dean wore the look well. His dick stood up proudly from where it lay uncovered by the jeans.

Commando…very nice.

Sam moved down Dean's body until he was leaning over Dean's hard length, noticing that Dean had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Sam… if all you're going to do is stare at it, I have better things I could be doing with my time…" Dean whined.

Sam rolled his eyes before taking the head of Dean's dick into his mouth. Dean gasped, his eyes closing in intense pleasure. Heh heh, so there was a way to shut Dean up, Sam thought. Sucking gently, Sam let his tongue swirl about the head before tickling at the weeping slit. Dean groaned louder in appreciation.

Wanting to get Dean off quickly so he could get him out of here and his shoulder treated that much sooner, Sam started a harsh fast pace with his mouth while firmly pumping the rest of Dean's shaft with his fist. Dean thrust up helplessly, his hips wreathing with the sensations running through him. Sam took Dean's balls into his other hand and fondled them gently, glancing up to see Dean's head thrashing back and forth as nonsensical words spilled from his panting mouth.

Dean gripped Sam's hair with his good hand, trying to make Sam go faster. "Sammy… oh god… you do that so good… uhnn… please…almost… I'm gonna…"

Sam hummed at the taste of Dean's need, feeling his own pleasure burn through his veins at getting to see and feel Dean like this.

Dean's hips arched off the ground with a cry, pumping his release into Sam's mouth.

Sam swallowed the flood of Dean's cum down, bitter but memorable, and not the way he expected. Dean slumped back to the floor, his limbs limp and relaxed, with a goofy smile on his face. Sam carefully pulled Dean's jeans back up before moving to lie beside him a moment, breathing him in once more.

"Sammy…I've been thinking…" Dean spoke up after a few minutes of silence.

Sam snorted.

"Shuddup. After we shower…cause we are so taking a shower first thing when we get back to the motel…and of course, you fix up my shoulder…"

"Are you going somewhere with this Dean?" Sam interrupted.

"Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam shot back with a smile.

Dean returned the smile lazily, "I think we should go on vacation… preferably someplace away from crazy people and harpies…just the two of us. What do you think?"

Sam swallowed. "…I think I'd like that."

The End.

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Everybody now...awwwww.

Crim


	5. Darkaina's

This entry was short and sweet and originally missing most punctuation. :-) But I loved it nonetheless as it has a wonderful flow and hotness about it. Well done!

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Darkaina's

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Kisses ran tender and needy along his neck, the caresses soft and yearning. A moan of pleasure that came from deep within, a warm mouth. Cool kisses fluttered over Dean's injured arm. The ministrations were icy and fresh like peppermint as his younger brother came back to claim Dean's lips, mind a haze with lust. Taking the back of Sam's neck, Dean brought Sam to him, meshing their lips together, tongues darting out, dancing, staking claim, before beginning a battle of dominance. Dean was gaining the upper hand, eliciting a small moan from the taller man as he rolled and eased Sam onto his back. Brushing his tongue, claiming all that Sam was offering, a deep purr vibrated against the back of Sam's throat as Dean smirked into the kiss, knowing that he had won. Pealing Sam's shirt away while latching onto his neck, teeth grazing against tender skin, biting, nipping and sucking, Dean created a love mark of possession, not caring that the man underneath him was his brother, not caring that some quack of doctor would end up telling him that he had some major issues. Sam kissed back, trying to reinstate dominance, and Dean bit back a moan, not wanting to relinquish his hold, but unable to deny Sam either.

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I said no word limit or minimum. Thanks again!

Crim


	6. Casammy's

This entry was special as it was sent to me in Spanish. I don't speak Spanish, only a little Japanese, so you can imagine I had a hard time translating and appropriately editing this in a way as close to what I thought the author wanted as possible. I hope I did it justice as it was alot of fun to read and work with. Thanks!

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Casammy's

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Sam tried to rise but Dean wrapped his arms around his brother to pull him down again. Before Sam could protest, Dean kissed Sam full on the lips, at first very gentle and soft, but soon pushing his tongue past Sam's lips. Then slipping his hands beneath Sam's clothes, Dean began to caress, feeling Sammy's skin so smooth and warm.

On one hand, Dean thought, 'this is my baby bro, I can't do this!' but on the other hand 'Damn it! A kiss has never excited me so much as right now kissing Sammy'.

Without wasting time, Dean settled on top of Sam's thighs.

"Dean…?" Sam trailed, his mouth wavering as if he meant to say something more, but Dean spoke quickly to quiet him.

"Shut up, Sammy."

Before Sam could even realize what was happening, Dean was tugging down his jeans and boxers, then his own. Dean lowered himself on top of his brother who looked so adorable with the wire grating beneath their naked bodies making their lean muscles even more appealing to Dean's appraising eyes.

Dean began to caress the intimate parts of Sam and to kiss him with more passion. Sam moaned at the feeling, his back arching up in pleasure. Dean lifted Sam as he removed him of his over-shirt and T-shirt, thinking to himself, 'why does this kid wear so many damn clothes?'

Like Sam had done to him, Dean began to kiss and lick along his neck, leaving like bruises and marks, but making sure they were low enough that his shirts would cover them later. Dean watched almost humorously the look on Sammy's face, somewhere between scared and excited, bringing about in Dean an uncontrollable desire to claim. It hadn't been his intention to take this so far, but after all, Dean thought, 'Sammy's always been mine, more than anybody else, since he was 6 days old', so Dean decided yes, he wanted more.

Softly, he whispered in Sam's ear, "Relax, Sammy, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm gonna go slow, so slow…"

And like so many times before what Dean saw in those eyes looking up at him made him pause. Sam's eyes were shining with so much confidence in his big brother, that glance of trust that Dean had seen so many times before to show him that he was really loved. Then Sam was smiling, a look so impossible to resist that Dean knew he could die right then or drowned in those eyes and he would be happy just the same.

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THE END...of all the entries. I have a few more promised to me from friends, so when I get those they better believe I'm going to post them here too. Thanks so much everyone, this was so fun! And congrats again to Ally Plz!

Crimson


	7. Blueeyesgreen's

This belated and absolutely WONDERFUL entry is from Blueeyesgreen who had a legit excuse for being late and its a damn shame too since this is so awesome. The only entry to give a nod to "Incubus". Enjoy!

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Blueeyesgreen's

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"Dean…"

It was getting harder and harder to focus on anything, even his brother's…even _Sammy's_ voice as the world faded out along the edges between the creeping exhaustion of blood loss and the warm bulk and the kisses that ought to be beyond gross because it was _Sammy_ and yet weren't because it was Sammy, _Sam_ who'd been all he'd ever really had and…

"Dean…?"

Now Sam's hand had replaced the kisses along Dean's jaw and…why was it frickin' sticky? So not cool, dude, 'cause hey, the kisses had at least felt… good, but Dean was not the sort of person who thought being slapped in the face was a turn on, although apparently he was the sort of person who could enjoy being kissed by his baby brother and wasn't that skeevy six ways from Sunday too. Then Dean realized that Sam's hand was sticky from the blood seeping out of the increasingly painful wound on his shoulder.

"Eyes open Dean!"

Sam's voice had gone from breathy too commanding and slightly worried, that warm bulk shifting away. Dean's eyes flew open from the pain as Sam manhandled him along the rough floor, the pain shooting from his arm pulling him out of whatever weird euphoria he'd been in.

"Watch the shoulder Sasquatch!"

The pressure on his arm released, and the world went swimmy and uncertain again but it was rough motel sheets not rough grating and the pain in his shoulder was his medallion digging in, no blood or stitches involved, and there were concerned _blue_ eyes watching him, not hazel and… ugh!

Dean quickly sat up ramrod straight in bed and fought the urge to run to the bathroom to shower, or maybe empty his stomach, or possibly both at the same time.

"Jeez, Sasha I told you to wake him up, not molest him!" Sam snarked, coming out of said bathroom, fully dressed, with his hair still damp.

Dean remembered how way too full of people the motel room was when he saw Sarah go over to help him towel dry his freakin' long mop, and then there was Jo flinging open the curtains to let in the bright sunlight before tidying up the nest of blankets she'd been sleeping on.

"Something you want to tell me Dean? I know I'm taller than you, but…" Sasha was laughing as he scooted away, already fully dressed, cause yeah, they'd showered the night before after Sarah made them watch Fantasia in some strange form of cultural education and…

And Dean had enough experience with rationalizing dreams in his life to know that he'd been dreaming about the harpy from the _movie,_ and about a hunt just with Sam because he desperately wanted elbow room in his road trip again, and there were kisses because of what Sasha had been up to, but…but all added up together Dean still really wanted that shower.

"Sorry," Sam was saying to him as he repacked his bag (and Dean privately thought Sam just really needed to hand Sarah a ring right then for the way she was calmly finding his dirty laundry for him), "Did I make him interrupt a good dream?" Sam finished.

"No!" Dean snapped, and when everyone looked at him oddly, he continued, "It was a freakin' nightmare okay? A harpy practically ripped my arm off and Sam was being put down a meat-grinder!"

"So where were the rest of us?" Jo teased, zipping up her duffle and putting it in the pile of stuff to go to the car.

"DREAM! You didn't exist, and trust me baby," this last bit was to the sulking incubus who was draping himself along Dean's back, pressing more of those light little kisses into his neck, "I would have much preferred it if you were there."

And that was all Dean would ever say on the subject—save that he refused to participate in any more of Sarah's ideas for cultural expansion.

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Teehee.

Crimson


	8. Darkyu's

Another late entry, woohoo! This one presented to you by Darkyu who I had to convince to let me post. Once you read it I'm sure you'll understand why I just HAD to share this with you guys. Another nod to "Incubus" but otherwise the only entry that went this direction. Thanks so much for sharing and letting me add this to the fic!

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Darkyu's

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"Dean…"

As if a bucket of ice water hit him suddenly in the face, Dean came to realize fully, even despite loss of blood, that his _baby brother_ was all frickin' _over_ him, _kissing_ his god damn _neck_!

"Sam! What are you doing?!" he asked, totally freaked. This had to be a dream! An unbelievably crazy and vivid dream!

The fact that his brother didn't answer and instead began to slowly suck down his collarbone with a content sigh made him panic. Dean put his hands as gently as he could on the large shoulders above him and tried to push the weight of Sam off, only to remind himself of his torn up shoulder and the pain that came with it.

A pitiful gasp fell from Dean's lips, finally capturing Sam's attention and bringing it back to Dean's eyes.

Dean could easily distinguish the concern in the hazel eyes of his brother, which made him relax a little. Sam wasn't going to hurt him, not like in his nightmares.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam asked for the second time.

"I'm fine." Was the automatic answer. "Just…get off me."

But of course, Sam had to look at him with that awful hurt expression on his face to make everything that much more difficult.

"I… I mean…" He tried to think of something quick, but he didn't have the time because a pair of lips on his effectively silenced him.

He couldn't get the gasp of surprise out of his mouth, giving Sam the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue skillfully in. But this time, the shock didn't hold Dean frozen for more than a couple of seconds and he turned his face a little more forceful than intended to break the kiss.

"Sam!"

Despite the warning in Dean's voice, Sam wasn't listening. He trailed little kisses along Dean's cheek up to his ear, and started to suck gently there. That alone earned a little moan from Dean.

"Dean…" Sam whispered with clear desire.

"Sammy, you have to stop this." This time, Dean tried to push Sam off a little more forceful with just his good arm, which of course didn't have any effect against the super strength of his younger brother. "We can talk this out," Dean attempted to reason, trying to control his voice as Sam's cold hand slipped under Dean's shirt. "Sam! Stop it!" he ordered with a harsher tone.

"Dean," Sam called without taking his hand away, on the contrary, he slipped it even further searching for a nipple and squeezing it provocatively, making the elder hunter shiver and barely suppress a moan. "We're not going to talk this out, I know you, you'll probably freak out on me and try to pretend this never happened. Even if you actually like it…" As if proving his point, Sam squeezed the nipple again, this time getting a strangled moan from his brother. "It would be better if it just happened." And he started to lift Dean's shirt carefully. "Easier."

"Wait!" Dean half-shouted holding his shirt down. This wasn't okay. Something was totally off with his brother! With the whole freaking picture!

"It's okay, Dean." Assured Sam as if he was doing the most normal thing in the world. "We'll use it to stop the bleeding." And without waiting another second, Sam ripped what was left of Dean's shirt and hastily but firmly tied the cloth around Dean's injured shoulder.

Dean couldn't stop the feeling of anxiety that even if his brother was still paying him the same mother-hen attention, he had yet to find a way out from under Sam without hurting Sam's feelings or using force. Not that Dean had a chance to actually win a fight in his current state.

Dean was pulled gruffly back to reality when a tongue started to gently caress his chest that was now uncovered. "Dean…"

Any protests that may have formulated died in Dean's throat when he caught the sound of his brother's voice. Suddenly, hazel eyes were right in front of his own again, with a look just as heated as Sam's tone.

One hand softly caressed Dean's face. "You are everything to me."

Really, that could have made Dean's heart skip a beat in a normal situation. But given the circumstance and the missing hand going slowly downwards to the hem of his jeans, it only freaked him out. Even so, Dean's eyes were completely captured by the ones looking down on him.

"I love you…"

Sam's lips were a hair's distance from his brother's in no time, Dean's green eyes going completely wide. Then that cold hand slowly slipped under the waistband of the elder Winchester's jeans.

"Dean…"

-------

"Dean!" exclaimed a worried, familiar voice while a strong hand was shaking him awake a little too forcefully. "Dean, wake up!"

When he started to open his eyes to focus on the figure just inches above him, the shaking ceased and the blurry colors started to take shape.

The unique concerned blue eyes alone had Dean snapping out of it and taking in his surroundings. He immediately recognized the redheaded person above him and suddenly knew that everything had been just a really creepy nightmare after all.

"Thank god…" he whispered.

"Dean?" asked Sasha, touching his face gently, "Are you alright? You just started kicking me and mumbling about a harpy or something. What happened?"

Dean reached for the back of Sasha's neck and dragged him all the way to him so they could kiss. The slow and a little confused kiss from the incubus' part turned passionate in no time.

Before they knew it, Dean was naked and huddled in Sasha's equally naked arms, sighing contentedly.

"Don't get me wrong," said Sasha while charting little kisses on the back of Dean's neck. "I'm thrilled with this outcome, but what happened before I woke you up? Were you dreaming?"

"Dreaming?" asked Dean, squeezing Sasha's hand a little who was holding his with their fingers interlaced. "That was the worst freaking nightmare I have ever had… And believe me, I've had plenty."

"Should I ask?"

"You don't want to know…"

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Yay, thanks again Darkyu! Please review, people, to let Darkyu know what you think!


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